


one minute to midnight

by MooseFeels



Category: Promare (2019)
Genre: Breathplay, Choking, Corsetry, Light BDSM, M/M, tightlacing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-15 22:15:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21025592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MooseFeels/pseuds/MooseFeels
Summary: Galo asks Lio for something.





	one minute to midnight

Galo’s waist is tiny. It’s not just that his chest his broad and that his hips are wide; his wait is actually terribly, wonderfully slender. 

Lio slides his hands down his sides, following the expressive curve of his ribs to his tiny, tiny waist, and he says, “Are you sure about this?”

Galo turns a little more flushed. He looks up, at Lio, with clear blue eyes, and he nods. “I-- I want this, Lio.”

Lio nods. “And you remember the signal?’

Galo nods. “Three times, stomp three times,” He says. 

“Okay,” Lio says. “Then let’s begin.”

Galo has a narrow waist. They’re going to make it narrower. 

* * *

Lio has a way of holding his waist that make Galo’s heart do something weird. Most things Lio does makes Galo’s heart do something funny, but they’ll be on the couch or in the kitchen or in the fire house, and Lio will turn a corner or come behind him or just  _ hug _ him and his arms, his hands, will circle around his waist and almost touch. 

Galo’s not  _ stupid _ ; he knows what his body looks like and he knows that he’s got a narrow waist. But he’d never realized before just  _ how _ narrow, and he’d never realized that he likes it when someone touches it.

Galo’s always known he liked it when someone else was in charge. He just didn’t know he always felt that way in the bedroom. 

Lio likes to be in charge. 

Lio’s so smart.

The thing he pulls out of the box is black severe looking. His hands are tender, though, as he turns Galo around in space to face the wall. He reaches around him, the thing wrapping around his back and then fastening in a series of steel closures.  _ Snap, snap, snap.  _

“You can touch it,” Lio says. “If you want to.”

The material is plain; dark, matte black. There’s no lace, no extra decoration. That had been part of the conversation. 

_ I don’t think I want that, _ Galo had said.  _ Not that there’s anything wrong with that, it’s just-- _

_ I know, _ Lio had answered.  _ That’s not what you want. _

The channels for the boning creep up and down, to sturdy, reinforced seams along the top and the bottom of the thing. It cuts just above his hips and sit  _ just _ below his pecs. Wraps over his stomach and around his waist. 

It feels secure and firm. 

He feels Lio’s hands above it, wrapping forward, tugging Galo into his embrace. 

“Are you ready?” Lio asks him.

Galo nods. “Yeah--  _ yes, _ General Fotia.” 

That’s something special, they get to do, in the bedroom when they’ve had a long conversation about what’s going to happen. Galo calls him General Fotia, because Galo likes it when someone else is in charge and both of them like it a  _ lot _ when that person is Lio. 

“Kneel,” Lio orders, nudging the back of his knees. Galo falls to a kneel happily. “Very good, pet. I’m going to start adjusting you now. “

Galo swallows. “Yes, General Fotia,” he answers. 

It’s quiet in the room, except for the sound of the laces moving in the eyelets. And it’s the funniest feeling, the top and the bottom going a little firmer, a little more intense, a little more, moment by moment by moment. 

“You never served in an army, did you, pet?” Lio purrs, tugging the laces. “Sure, the Burning Rescue requires a certain--” He tugs, suddenly, hard, and Galo  _ gasps _ and then his chest can settle back down quite as much.  _ Oh my god _ . “--a certain  _ get-up-and-go _ but what about discipline, hm?”

Galo feels his blood begin to run quick circuit in his body. 

“I’ll teach you discipline,” Lio says, pulling  _ tighter _ again. “It’s about time someone did.”

“Yes, General Fotia,” Galo answers. 

“Exhale,” he commands.

Galo does. 

* * *

Lio can’t believe Galo lets him do this.

Galo is a lot bigger than he is. He’s taller and broader and stronger, built of sturdy muscle that moves under his beautiful skin. Galo, if he wanted to, could pick Lio up and throw him out of the window. 

He doesn’t, though. He wants Lio to tightlace him so that his waist is so small he can barely breathe. And then, he wants Lio to choke him. 

_ Wait, choke you _ ?

_ Yeah _ , Galo had said.  _ Please? _

That’s the thing. Galo always asks. He always asks so earnestly and so quietly, and Lio, who lived without a nation and without a home for so long, Lio who has seen death and suffering and agony-- it always leaves Lio to wonder who hurt Galo. Who broke his heart, to make him ask for such simple things with such gravity and such gentleness. 

In the dark clutches of the corset, Galo’s tiny waist shrinks.

“Do you know what I’d do to you, if I still had the promare?” he whispers into his ear. 

“No, General Fotia,” he answers, his voice sounding a little strained, his breath sounding shallow, panting. 

“I’d build you armor,” he answers. “Skin tight everywhere except your waist. That, I’d make two sizes too small.”

Galo’s breath is so loud in the room, wavering. 

Lio ties off the laces. He’s brough Galo’s waist inches smaller, brought his breathing to the state of impossible labor. Sweat has started to bead on Galo’s broad back, dripping down between his shoulder blades, stopping at the channel along the top of the corset. He steps around, to face him. 

His hair is falling into his blue, blue eyes. His skin is flushed bright red. He’s clutching his wrists, pulled his posture as upright as he can. 

Lio traces along his jawline. Grabs his chin and forces him to look in his eye.

He looks at him, seriously, for just a moment.

Galo nods, just barely. 

“I know they build those suits for Burning Rescue extra roomy,” Lio sneers. Galo’s eyes stay on his, fixed. “I know they give you all kinds of comforts. Let me teach you. Let me teach you to treasure a  _ breath _ .”

Galo’s neck is thick, and strong. His fingers wrap around it confidently, though, and squeeze. 

“It takes remarkably little pressure, I find, to teach this lesson,” he muses, as Galo’s pink mouth hangs open, as his eyes breath from his to look up open into empty air, as his posture goes rigid, as he lets go of his wrists. 

Lio holds him there, breathless, for just a few seconds before letting go.

Galo  _ heaves _ for a breath, as best he can around his tightly-laced diaphragm. He collapses, falling back onto his heels, the stiff boning holding him up more than his own spine. 

It didn’t take much to choke him. It takes even less as he plants the toe of his boot on his exposed chest and  _ delicately _ pushes him back, onto the floor. 

Galo falls backwards, more flexible than Lio could ever imagine.

God, inside his pants he’s the hardest he thinks he’s ever been. 

Lio stands over him, feet planted on the side of either shoulder, and looks at Galo squirm beneath him, gasp for air, hard in his own boxers.

Lio smiles. “Let’s go again, to make sure the lesson really  _ sticks _ .”

Galo pants, shakes his head. “Yes, General Fotia,” he answers, hoarse. 

**Author's Note:**

> everyone's talking about galo's small waist but no one is talking about making it smaller. well,


End file.
